Chapter 3 Baking Mistakes #2
I couldn’t help my frown. Doing all of those colors in one bowl seemed nonsensical, but I held the massive piping bag steady as Rowen scooped white frosting into it.
His fingers brushed mine as he took the bag from me and twisted it before tying it off, leaving a tingly warm feeling behind that had me flexing my fingers.
“Look, the colors will layer just fine,” he said, reading my skepticism. He dripped a little red dye into the frosting. “This is from beets. Nothing artificial.”
Red streaked the frosting until it blended in, diluting until it was the palest pink. Again, we bagged a portion of frosting before adding another color to the bowl. I watched in awe as he added yellow until it was pale orange.
For the last color, I cringed as Rowen dripped blue dye into the bowl. There was no way it would work with the orange. But sure enough, the blue diluted and mixed with the orange to make a warm green color.
Rowen chuckled at my shocked expression as he handed me a pastry bag.
His arm muscles flexed, distracting me, as he scraped out the mixing bowl so every bit of frosting was retrieved.
I was so busy watching his arms, my hold on the bag wavered.
The next bit of frosting he added to the bag landed partially on my fingers holding the piping bag.
“Dammit,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rowen said, taking the bag and tying it off. “Just go wash your hands.”
Instinctively, I raised my fingers to my mouth to lick the frosting off, but caught myself at the last moment. Freezing, I glanced at my new boss to see if he noticed my almost-mistake.
Sure enough, Rowen’s gaze was locked on my fingers, and his throat worked. Despite his strained expression, he sounded composed and unbothered when he spoke. “You can try it. It’s just frosting. But wash your hands after.”
My mouth curved into an indulgent grin, and I popped two fingers into my mouth. Rowen’s jaw flexed and his eyes fell to my mouth as I dragged my fingers out, cleaning off every last bit of frosting.
“Mmm, that’s delicious,” I said, resisting the urge to flutter my lashes at him. “You make tasty frosting, Rowen.”
Hearing his name jolted the witch out of his trance. He reeled back, looking anywhere but at me. “Don’t forget to wash your hands well,” he said gruffly.
“I’ll do my best.” My grin widened. This interaction was a far cry from angry Rowen about to fire me. His cheeks flushed as he busied himself with cleaning up.
Should I be flirty with my new boss, especially when he wanted to fire me and I had to beg to keep my job? Absolutely not. But I couldn’t help myself.
He was delicious, from his thick maroon lashes to his full lips. And besides, he wasn’t totally offended by my flirting. In fact, I suspected he liked it.
“Why don’t you stock the case while I frost these?” he asked, waving his hands at the scones.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I slid the trays of scones into the bakery case as Rowen frosted the cupcakes with sure, easy motions.
“Do you want to try?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t do it as well as you do.”
“Try,” he murmured.
Heart racing, I picked up one of the soft, spongy cupcakes in one hand, and the pink piping bag in the other. Rowen stepped behind me, leaning over my shoulder. His hand came up to frame mine, guiding me to lower the frosting bag to the cupcake top.
“This one is easy. It’s just a swirl. Go slow and let it fill in smooth.”
All I had to do was follow his lead, letting him guide me to swirl the frosting over the top. When the cupcake was set on the tray beside its neighbors, I twisted to grin at Rowen.
“Easy peasy lemon squeezy!”
He cleared his throat, his gaze flickering with heat. It was then I noticed that one hand was still cradled in his, while the other gripped the apron over his broad chest. It was a little too similar to yanking him in for a kiss, just like I’d done the night before. Like I could do right then.
“Sorry,” I said brightly, smoothing down his apron and patting his chest. Geez, his pecs are firm.
Swallowing, I stepped back, gingerly setting the frosting bag on the tray.
“We should clean up,” he said. “Add the cupcakes to the case for me?”
“Of course!”
Ten minutes later, the bakery was clean and ready for the day. Rowen hung my apron up beside his, and then shifted his weight awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure what to say.
“Look, I really appreciate this, Rowen,” I said, clasping my hands at my waist. “I know I don’t deserve all this time and training when I was supposed to be experienced. But it means a lot to me. I promise you won’t regret it.”
One hand rubbed over his scruff. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh. I can tell you have a talent for this. As long as you, you know, keep getting better, it’ll be fine.”
Cocking my head, I quirked an eyebrow at him. “Um, okay, sure. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Good night, Sadie.” He opened the door for me, and I breathed in his caramel scent one more time as I slipped past him.
The memories of Rowen’s mouth and hands continued to haunt me even after he dismissed me for the night and locked up the bakery. He watched from the door as I walked to my vehicle, making me feel safe.
As I sank into the threadbare seat of my old beater car, I let out my breath in one long, low groan. I was an idiot—an embarrassed, starving idiot. But I wasn’t a quitter.
There were still a few hours of night left, and I should be cruising the dating apps to find a partner and blood, but I couldn’t motivate myself to open the app.
I would be imagining Rowen, and that felt icky.
His scent clung to me, and I didn’t want to replace that sweet caramel smell with anyone else.
Shaking my head, I pulled my car onto the main road through town, past the post office and the adorable bed and breakfast. I’d give anything to stay there instead of the shady motel outside of town, but there was no way I could afford it.
Magic prickled over my skin as I left the city limits. Ten more minutes and I was pulling into the motel parking lot. It was two hours until sunrise, and everyone else was asleep.
Silently, I slipped into my cheap room. I’d be trapped in here for the next ten or so hours.
At least it got darker sooner now that we were into late October.
It gave me an extra hour of freedom. When I first arrived, I was trapped inside for over thirteen hours waiting for it to get dark. That had sucked.
Grabbing a granola bar from my stash on the desk, I flopped down and flipped on the television, keeping the volume at a whisper.
Only another month or two and I’d be able to afford an apartment in town, and I’d be out of this shitty motel.
The thought sent warm flutters through my chest. I’d be an official resident of Pumpkin Hollow, and my new life would be even better than what I lost when I was turned. I’d make sure of it.